Zachary peered through the shelves, watching the man at the counter closely. This was no longer impulsive stealing; it had grown into full-out premeditated thievery. He bit the inside of his mouth, and counted silently. He hated this, he absolute loathed the curse. Reaching ten, he saw the cashier turn his back to him, and screamed mentally. Now, now! Hurriedly, he removed handfuls of granola bars from the rack, and shoved them into any space he had; his pockets, his shirt, and his pants. Yet, despite the outrageous amount of oats and chocolate he now possessed, one would never notice. Zachary had perfected the art of deceit.

Steadying his breath, he pocketed a final snack bar, before carrying two of them to the front counter. "This is all," he muttered, feeling the familiar rush inside of him. He passed them forward, and prayed that the transaction went without any problems. Feeling the man eye him, as if sizing him up, he wiped sweat from his forehead. Oh gods. His mind was racing. It's the middle of winter. No average person would be sweating like a pig. Luckily, Zachary payed and was able to hurry out. Letting the door close behind him, he rushed out of sight from the windows, and allowed himself to lean against the wall. Gods, he cursed again.

Zachary knew that if he didn't get rid of the evidence quickly, he would throw up right here and now. So, he regained himself and began to take granola bars out by the handful, studying them with pursed lips. This is what he had worked so hard to take? A nervous laugh escaped his lips, and he threw them to the ground. He didn't even like chocolate.